


Silent Lips

by Ellenka



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, everthorne, galeniss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5756368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellenka/pseuds/Ellenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss Everdeen can do almost anything, but saying certain things is not on the list. Not when she means them. (A collection of interconnected scenes, following the canon timeline but diverging towards Everthorne.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the pretenses

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old thing, I'm crossposting it here for the nostalgia - and hopefully to get myself back to fic mood.

**1**

Gale is holding me tightly in his arms, whispering some last minute advice into my ear. Barely listening, I cling to my best friend with all my strength, creasing his shirt between clenched fingers.

The clock on the wall keeps ticking, our time is running low.

Finally, Gale pulls away a little and releases his hold on my waist, only to cup my face in his palms. He leans so close our noses almost touch, his eyes burning into mine with intensity I've never seen before.

"Catnip, whatever you do, just come back. Come back to me. Please." He's talking too fast, fighting to keep his voice steady. He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Whatever you do, remember... I love you."

I stare at him, wide-eyed and speechless, willing myself to do something, anything to prevent our last moments together from passing in awkward silence. On impulse, I rise to my tiptoes and press my lips against his cheek, just before the door opens, and the Peacekeepers pour in to rip us apart forever.

For a few more seconds I watch the surprise, hope and despair battle on his face, then the door thumps closed and the Peacekeepers drag him away. Gale's last look remains etched into my memory and floods my heart with resolve. I will let the love I saw shining so brightly in his eyes to be my guiding light and bring me back home. Back into his arms.

Maybe then I'll bring myself to answer.

 

**2**

During the long, lonely days at the beginning of the Games, I missed having someone at my back, someone to help me live through the painful, endless hours. I thought I just hated being so utterly alone in the midst of constant danger.

But even after teaming up with Rue, a sense of unbearable loneliness still lingered, like a particular piece was missing.

Now I'm cooped up with Peeta in a tiny cave - not alone, I couldn't catch a moment alone even if I wanted to - but my secret longing remains. Only now I realize what I truly miss: being with Gale. I've grown so accustomed to his company during the last four years that I miss him like I would miss a part of my own body and mind.

My heart clenches when I realize that I'm betraying Peeta, defiling the illusion we'd created by thinking about another man. He deserves better, a girl who would return his love without hesitation. Yet truly returning his love would mean betraying Gale on my part, and I find that prospect even more unbearable. Even when I might never see him again.

I suspect I may love Gale but the idea scares me so much I never dared to admit it, not even to him alone.

I suspect I may not love Peeta , but here I am pretending otherwise for the whole Panem to see, because pretending is our only chance to escape the Games together. Maybe I cannot give him my heart, but I still owe him my life. And I need to keep playing the Game if I want to win a chance to repay my debt.

Recalling the last image of Gale's face that I bear with me like a secret token, more precious than the golden mockingjay pin, I desperately wish for a chance to return and explain myself. He'll have to understand I'm doing what I need to survive, otherwise my trust in him would be mistaken.

I'll cross that bridge if - when! - I live to get there.

I take a deep breath.

"I love you, Peeta."

The words slip out easily. My tongue cooperates when my heart does not.

I lean down to kiss him, because that's what girls in love do, because it might impress Haymitch and the sponsors, and because the look of genuine joy in his eyes makes my heart ache so much I cannot bear to look at it any longer.

Seconds later, a parachute softly descends to the opening of the cave, hopefully bringing our chance to make it home alive.

Before I get up to retrieve it, secretly I wish I'd kissed Gale on the lips before leaving and found out what a real kiss feels like.

 

**3**

Peeta asks me about my most pleasant memory. Taken aback by his question, I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water. I swallow dryly and think hard.

My choices are rather limited, life in the Seam doesn't offer many experiences worth remembering fondly.

I've felt most alive only beyond the fence, in the vast freedom of the woods. But I cannot breathe a single word about the happiness I'd found there. The old memories from my childhood, memories of my father, of mother's happiness and a tiny Prim, are too sacred to share with the Capitol audience.

And all the recent ones revolve around Gale, the first to come to my mind are the small, warm moments when the bond between us felt deeper that a friendship could. I keep them well hidden, like secret treasures that I hardly dare to examine:

The time when I twisted my knee and Gale carried me home, the winter mornings when we cuddled together to ward off the cold, the lazy summer afternoons we spent fishing under the sun…

No, any of these would ruin the illusion of my relationship with Peeta, and could lead to our deaths. I cannot allow that to happen. I need to get us home. I need to return to my sister. To my mother. And to Gale.

Finally, I remember how we bought a goat for Prim and consider the idea for a second, but then I change my mind… even this memory involves Gale and I together, poaching and trading at the Hob. I could even endanger him and both our families by mentioning it.

Then the right inspiration finally strikes.

"Your interview. When you said you liked me," I blurt out, hoping to sound like a flustered girl in love, not a shameless liar struggling to survive.

And hope that Gale and only Gale would see the ghost of his own face in my eyes and recall the very memories I'm trying to silence.

Peeta seems placated by my answer, and dutifully beams for the benefit of the audience. I act too exhausted for more conversation, and curl up with my back tightly pressed against him.

I close my eyes and pretend to fall asleep, but in the privacy of my own mind, beyond the reach of the cameras and microphones, I remember...


	2. the memories

**1**

I'm standing on one leg. The other is only gingerly touching the ground, because my injured knee would buckle under my weight. I'd found out the hard way moments ago.

"No, Gale," I say with a stubborn frown, "I can do it perfectly well on my own."

Gale kneels down and tentatively touches my knee with his fingertips. I struggle to suppress a pained yelp, but it escapes through my clenched teeth.

"Are you sure, Catnip?" The sincere concern in his eyes almost melts my resolve. Almost.

I bite my lip and look away.

"Definitely."

I take one shaky step to prove it, and stumble precariously. Gale catches my elbow and saves me from falling.

"I'll carry you," he repeats his earlier suggestion, not releasing the gentle but firm hold on my arm. Perhaps to prevent me from doing something stupid... again.

"Do you think I'd ever live it down?" I scoff.

He lets out an exasperated sigh. "Catnip, if you try to walk, you'll damage you leg even further and it will take longer to heal. How are you going to live _that_ down?"

It's my turn to sigh. "Okay, you win…"

"Good."

He releases me for a moment to sling both our game bags across his back. Then he leans down, carefully bracing his arm under my good knee, and sweeps me up bridal style. Bewildered, I fling my hands around his shoulders and hold onto him tightly to steady myself.

"Dammit, Gale what the…" I begin to rant, but I almost immediately lose steam.

My breath hitches in my throat. Suddenly, I'm much too aware of Gale's firm chest pressed tightly against my side, lean muscles taut with exertion, heartbeat racing madly.

I regain my bearings after a few seconds, and attempt to reason. "Hey, wouldn't it be easier if you just slung me over your shoulder, or something like that?"

Gale leans down to look right into my face, his smiling lips suddenly too close for comfort. _Or too far?_

"Yeah, it would," he concurs, "but I like it better this way."

Deep in my heart, I find myself agreeing, but I'm definitely not letting him know that. Gritting my teeth, I try to hide my face under his collar to prevent it from betraying my jumbled emotions.

It's not my turn to sigh, but I do. So silently Gale wouldn't hear me, but my breath brushes against his neck, and he knows.

 

 

2

I'm shivering on my cold perch, my freezing fingers holding onto my bow with increasing difficulty.

"Come on, Catnip," drawls Gale from where he sits against the rock, knees bent to his chest, "A little human warmth won't kill you."

I attempt a half-hearted glare, but I doubt he can see that through the frost clinging to my lashes. "You think so?"

"Sure," he purrs with a smile that alone brings a little warmth to my insides. "It may even make you stronger."

"Whatever." I wouldn't admit it aloud, but I know I couldn't stand unprotected in the cold for much longer anyway. So I duck under the rocky overhang and sit down between Gale's bent legs . I lean my back against his chest and he covers me with his coat, which he had unbuttoned to let me closer to him. I feel his arms snake around my waist, enveloping me in his warmth. He takes my numb hands into his, and gently massages life back into them.

A pleasant tingle spreads from my fingertips throughout my body, coiling in my stomach and curling my toes.

"So tell me, Catnip, how did you want to shoot anything with your fingers frozen solid?"

I don't bother with an answer. I just lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. I don't know about stronger, but now, with his touch making my thoughts swirl like snowflakes in the harsh wind howling just beyond our shelter, I can hardly remember feeling better.

 

**3**

We are enjoying a beautiful summer day by the lake. I tear my gaze from Gale, sprawled on his discarded shirt not two feet away from me, and train my eyes on the spot where out fishing lines disappear into the water.

 _We are fishing_.

Soon my self-control falters again, and I wish I had those dark glasses I've seen some Capitol people wear, so that Gale wouldn't catch me staring if he opened his eyes before I had a chance to look away.

 _The lake_ , I remind myself. _We are fishing_.

"Catnip," I hear Gale whisper.

My gaze snaps from the calm surface of the water back to him.

"Oh, Catnip…" louder this time, more insistent.

His back arches and muscles tense, his face looks strained, fingers spasmodically curl around the fabric of his shirt.

_Is he in pain?_

"Gale?" I want shout, but my throat suddenly feels too tight, and the words come out only as a choked whisper.

No answer. Then another sigh.

Worried, I lean over him to take a closer look.

His eyes are moving rapidly under tightly closed lids... soon I realize that he is fast asleep...

...and apparently dreaming of _me..._ and that the dream makes him sigh my name.

Blood rushes to my cheeks. Now I'm very glad I hadn't spoken loud enough to wake him up. If he looked at me now, I suspect my face might betray more than I'd want him to know... like the sudden desire to hear him sigh my name while he is awake.

Slowly, I lay down beside him, careful not to disturb him. I lean my head against his bare shoulder, pretending to have fallen asleep too and accidentally rolled closer to him. But I just breathe in his scent and struggle to stay awake… maybe to prevent any embarrassing mishaps in _my_ sleep…

After few moments, I feel him stir and prop himself up on his elbow. I lay motionless as his fingertips move a few loose locks from my face, with a touch lighter than the gentlest breeze, and then his lips brush softly against my forehead. His whisper, just a little louder than a breath, caresses the heated surface of my skin.

"Oh, Catnip... if you only cared to know..."

My heart swells with emotion until it seems to fill my whole ribcage, making it difficult to breathe. I do _care_ to know, but I don't _dare_ to know, and desperately wish I could tell him that.

Instead, just I let the corners of my mouth curl slightly upwards, as if I were smiling in my sleep, but otherwise remain completely still. I don't want to let him know that I'm awake, because only like this, with tightly closed eyelids shielding me from the world, I can allow myself to think of loving him as more than a friend.

* * *

I must have really fallen into slumber at some point, because the next time I try to open my eyes, my lids are heavy with sleep. Gale is already sitting beside me, but I just catch the sight of his head quickly turning back towards the lake.

I stretch luxuriously while he's looking away, and then raise myself to a sitting position, lean lightly against Gale's arm and train my eyes on the same spot.

 _We are fishing after all_.


	3. the (re)union

**1**

After getting off the train, I hold Peeta's hand tightly and my head high, flash fake smiles in all directions, and keep my eyes trained on the audience as if I wanted to greet each of them personally. In truth, I'm carefully scanning the crowd, looking for a particular pair of gray eyes. I need to see them, whatever they may hold.

Then our gazes finally meet, Gale's eyes are guarded, but knowing him as I do, I can read a simple message in them: _Our place_. His lips twitch into a smile, though. I can tell he's both bursting with joy at my return, and can't really believe it. I would know, I feel the same.

Then he nods and disappears, leaving me to my family.

Good.

I wouldn't want our reunion to be public anyway.

By the time I'm done hugging Prim and mother until I almost squeeze all the air out of them, and finally disengage myself from the crowd of reporters and well-wishers, Effie, Haymitch and Peeta, it's already getting dark.

I change out of my fancy dress and into my old hunting outfit. The slight scratching of the coarse fabric on my skin is most welcome. I wish I could discard the nets of lies woven around me just as easily, and replace them with certainties, maybe uncomfortable, but familiar. To shed my unnatural smooth skin - courtesy of the Capitol -, and to wear my old scars again.

I slip under the lifeless fence and make my way towards our meeting place. Gale is already waiting for me. He jumps to his feet and opens his arms the moment he sees me, but then remains rooted on the spot, as if he meant to leave the decision to me.

I walk up to him, close, but not yet close enough to touch, keeping my stare focused on his carelessly buttoned shirt.

"Catnip…" he begins softly, but I don't dare to talk to him yet. I'm so grateful for this moment; I don't want any us to ruin it. Now it's time to celebrate my return. Talking about the means and the consequences can wait. I want our reunion to begin like so many meetings before - shrouded in comfortable silence only we can understand. I want just to _be_ with him and nothing else, to forget everything that conspires to separate us.

I lift my eyes to meet his, and see all the emotions I've left him with, the same love, the same hope. And deeper despair, because he doesn't dare to believe that it is indeed me who returned. And that I really returned to _him_. I'll convince him, but first I need him to give me enough strength to believe it myself.

Tentatively, I raise both hands to his face, press my palms against his cheeks and brush my thumbs over his lips, silencing him. I want to scold myself for touching him so boldly, but I dismiss the thought at once. I've been given a second chance at life, and I'm not letting it slip through my fingers.

"Shh. Not yet, Gale… please."

As he nods in understanding, I eliminate the remaining space between us, let my hands drop from his face to his shoulders, and bury my head in his chest. I feel his hands slide around my waist, long fingers splaying across the small of my back, pressing our bodies together, closer than ever before. We stay like that for a long time, our breaths attuned and hearts beating in unison. Now, at least for a moment, I can feel whole and unchanged. I can be the person he used to know. Not the Girl on Fire. Not the alleged lover of Peeta Mellark. Not a murderer of other children.

The old Catnip, nothing more, nothing less.

I made it back to Gale's arms, the only place in the whole world where I can be myself. I close my eyes tightly and wish we could remain like this forever.

 

**2**

We are sitting on our rock now. I'm no longer touching him and already feel like there is a little piece of me missing. It's time to speak now, but words still elude me. So Gale comes to my rescue, though now I need rescuing from my own emotions that threaten to swallow me.

"Catnip, I begged you to do whatever it takes to survive. And you did. You are back here with me. At least right now," he adds, somewhat bitterly. I know my actions on the TV have hurt him more than he lets on, but he is obviously trying not to add to my guilt. Even if this is the easier thing to be guilty about.

He gently lays his hand on mine, as if he needed to touch me in order to believe his own words. His fingertips, rough like home, yet comforting, caress the fake smoothness of my skin.

I cover his hand with my own a squeeze it tightly, to let him know that I'm here and not about to disappear. And to assure myself that he is not about to disappear either.

"But," I begin, "I kissed Peeta… and told him I loved him… in front of the whole nation…after _you_ told _me,_ and I never…"

Gale returns the pressure on my hand, but his expression grows more pained.

"Catnip, I'm not going to lie to you. I was jealous. It hurt. A lot. But it was still somehow better than watching you kill more people. Because I know it hurt _you_ less."

My eyes widen. I didn't expect him to lay his feelings this bare, or to have this kind of feelings to begin with. "So you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive. You've done nothing I could hold against you. Besides," he says through gritted teeth, "even here, people have to do worse than kiss to survive."

We both know he's too right, so I just lift my free hand and stroke his face as if I could make up for everything that happened and everything that did not, and drive all his pain away by a simple touch. Maybe I succeed after all, because he suddenly smiles the old familiar smile, a smile that makes my heart beat a little faster every time I see it.

"Life here is not that much different from the Arena, is it?" I muse quietly.

"No, Catnip, it isn't. Now, I am almost grateful for that. It prepared you well enough to return."

He understands. After all, if he did not, who would? Relieved, I allow myself to relax again and lean against his shoulder.

After a while Gale speaks up, serious again. "Besides, I think you didn't mean it when you told him."

My head immediately snaps up. "How can you tell?"

"I know you best, Catnip. If you did, you wouldn't get it out that easily," he says with a certainty that warms my heart and sends a wave of panic crashing into my brain. If he saw through my act, who else might have?

"You are right. It broke my heart to deceive him. But I had to. I can only hope he forgives me as well."

"He will. You know he's a more forgiving person than me. In fact, I wouldn't be that much surprised if you..."

"Don't say that, Gale," I interrupt him sharply. "Please, just don't."

I can barely acknowledge my feelings towards Gale, even though I've been vaguely aware of them for a long time. Adding my feelings towards Peeta to the mix is more than I can handle. And however much we've survived together in the Games, I find it hard to think about him with Gale right beside me.

"How did you really feel in there?" Gale asks softly. "Will you tell me?"

I can't bring myself to lie and I don't know the whole truth myself, much less how to describe it. I'm not ready to open the whole can of worms and start dealing with it, so I tell him the only thing I'm entirely sure about. "Like there a was piece of me missing. Because you weren't there. Of course..." I stumble over my own words, "... I wouldn't want you to have to go into the Arena, but... you know..."

"Yeah, I get it." Something in his expression makes my heart melt. He cups my face in his palms and leans close, and I'm almost disappointed when he presses a kiss to my forehead. I lift my hands and let my fingers slide into his hair to prevent him from pulling away.

"Now that you are here, Catnip," he murmurs, lips moving against my skin, "we can both be whole. Together."

"Okay," I whisper.

I decide not to tell him what Snow intends for me and Peeta yet. Why ruin our present, when we may have no future?

 

**3**

Gale has to work in the mines now, and it's driving me insane, on top of everything else. Now I understand how he must have felt when I was in the Games, when he feared for my life every waking moment and fought for it in every nightmare.

It's a good ploy to make sure nobody suspects we are too close, to make sure we follow the rules. After all, relatives of Victors aren't exempt from slaving away for the Capitol. Neither real nor fake.

But that doesn't mean it's not killing me.

We can't be seen together in the town, but every morning I follow him furtively to the entrance of the mine and let my eyes cling to him until he disappears into the dangers below. I find some degree of calm only after I see him return to the surface, when I assure myself that I haven't lost him to the darkness like I'd lost my father.

During the day I sometimes visit Peeta, politely avoiding the disappointment in his eyes, and wishing I could look at him without having to think about the Games and forget how the Capitol corrupted everything between us.

I always take my leave soon and spend most of my endless free time hunting, no longer to save my life, but to save my sanity, though even my last respite has lost the most important part of its appeal.

When I walk the familiar paths alone, I often feel as if I were back in the Arena, with danger all around and no one to guard my back. Often I peer over my shoulder, hoping to find Gale standing there, and see nothing but trees that no longer look friendly. The need to be with him only increases as days and weeks go by, and the Victory Tour is approaching, threatening to separate us again.

Every Sunday, the only day when we can spend together, I find myself clinging to him closer after we greet and longer before we part, holding onto what we have with and wanting more.

Every time I wish I never had to let him go, because goodbye always feels like the last.

* * *

One evening finds us walking home with an extremely good haul, fingers intertwined and minds filled with a fleeting illusion of peace, enjoying our last moments  beyond the fence. Under the eaves of the forest, we stop for an embrace like so many times before. The closer we are the more danger Gale is in, yet the more danger he's in, the closer I want to hold him. My arms wrap around him so tightly as if I wanted to draw him into my heart and hide him there.

After a long while, we pull apart, but only slightly, because neither of us wants to be the first to let go. When I lift my eyes to meet his gaze, I see the same conflict I'm feeling, and realize he is fighting a losing battle. Something in his expression sends a wave of anticipation through my body.

"Gale, I think we should…" I begin, fumbling for the last straws of reason.

His lips are on mine before I can finish. It's not what I wanted to say. It is what I wanted.

Shock paralyzes my thoughts, but my body yields to his touch like it was the most natural thing in the world. A rushing sound fills my ears, my eyes close on their own accord and I hold onto his strong shoulders as our lips and tongues dance to the wild tune of our heartbeat. Gale leans back against a tree and lifts me from the ground, and now I'm flying on blazing wings, my head spinning and lungs burning with lack of oxygen, and I feel more alive than ever, and try to think _now this is a real kiss_ , but it feels almost too incredible to be real...

… and when our mouths finally part and Gale sets my feet back onto the ground, I sway on the spot, my entire body overflowing with sensation that makes my knees buckle and my fingers clutch desperately at his shirt. I fight the desire I could never be selfish enough to fulfill, and when I subdue it, the fire in my veins turns into lead and weighs me down.

Gale notices the pain in my eyes before I can close them again, and probably think that _he_ had hurt me. When I see the remorse written plainly on his face, I want to tell him that he is wrong, that I share all the feelings he has for me, but I can't force a single word around the lump in my throat.

He gently cups my face in his hands and leans his forehead against mine.

"I wish I could say I'm sorry, Catnip…" he whispers, his hot, ragged breath fanning over my swollen lips. "But I'm not. I had to do it. Even if it was the last thing I'd ever do."

Finally finding my voice, I whisper: "Gale, I wanted it too. But I don't want it to be the last thing you'd ever do, so we should better go."

We should better go. Yes, I guess that's exactly what I wanted to say before he kissed me. I guess I shouldn't feel like thanking him for not letting me finish.

Unaware of the Capitol camera that recorded everything, I let Gale take my hand and lead me to the fence, though there is nothing I want more than to stay here with him and kiss him until the end of the world.

* * *

Later, when Snow threatens to have him killed, I realize that I did kiss Gale until the end of the world.

The end of our world, at least.

 


	4. bleeding hearts and other things

**1**

Peeta sinks to one knee in front of me.

"Katniss Everdeen, will you marry me?"

I'm standing rigidly on the stage, wishing I could be anywhere else in the world, the Arena included. Everything has been scripted, rehearsed and performed; only my final line remains to be delivered.

By saying no, I'd condemn Gale to death. By saying yes, I'd break his heart. I know exactly which option he would prefer.

Blinking back tears, I force the fateful word out of my mouth.

"Yes."

If I allowed him to be killed, he'd be irrevocably lost. Broken hearts can be mended while we are alive to do so.

Deep inside, I regret I had no chance to warn Gale of what I'll have to do, and hope he'll understand when I come back. And just as fervently, I wish Peeta would understand and forgive me. He knows exactly why I agreed, and I know how he must be suffering under his happy facade. Even if I don't love him the way I love Gale, the sight makes my heart ache. I know I can well add Peeta's heart to the broken list, and add this trick to the endless list of things I owe him for.

I like to think this is not my fault at all, that we all are innocent victims of the Capitol. The lie is my only link to sanity at this stage.

* * *

On the first Sunday after my return from the Victory Tour, I hurry to my meeting place with Gale very early. We'd have to be extra careful to keep this conversation private, so I make an arrow from pieces of wood, pointing to the path leading to the abandoned house by the lake. By the time I arrive there, I'm cold and tired, and hope for some time to collect my thoughts and formulate a subtle way to explain things.

But Gale bursts through the door only a few minutes after me. In my mind's eye, I can see the long, angry, purposeful strides that have carried him here. Remembering his old anti-Capitol rages, I shudder when I imagine myself at the receiving end of this one. _Does he believe I gave in to Snow's machinations? Or worse, that I really want to marry Peeta?_ When I notice his expression, I realize there's no time for subtlety.

"Snow threatened to kill you if I don't do it."

"What...?" His anger and jealousy gives way to shock and horror. Then he looks down, defeated. I can only imagine how much I hurt his pride by saving him like this. My own fear vanishes instantly, and my heart clenches. No longer trusting my legs to hold me, I sit down on the edge of the fireplace and bury my face in my hands.

Gale heaves a sigh, and sinks to one knee in front of me. A terrible sense of reliving something that already happened makes me shudder again.

_We are not on a stage and this is not a proposal, but... What is he going to say?_

Gale gingerly pries my hands off my face, lifts my chin with one finger, and our gazes lock. The pain in his eyes is so unbearable I let my eyelids fall closed as if blocking it from my vision could make it disappear.

"So you agreed to do it because of _me,_ Catnip?" he says, his voice harsh and bitter. "What the hell makes you think I wouldn't much rather die than let you ruin your life for me?"

Fortunately, I have an answer for this. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I know you too well," I say, my eyes still tightly closed. "That is why I had to prevent it, and not ask you to kindly _let me_ , you stubborn..." I bite my lip and change course. "Besides, it's not only you. Maybe they'd kill your family too. And mine. Prim..."

Daring to open my eyes a fraction, I try to gauge the effect of my words.

 _Worse_. Gale looks about ready to take on the whole Capitol with his bare hands. Time for my last hope. I take hold of his hands and squeeze them tightly.

"Gale, I'm not going through with it. I just wanted to buy us some time. Let's run away. You said we could do it."

 _Better_. A smile, brighter than lightning and more sudden, illuminates his face. His arms wrap around me and he all but jumps to his feet, lifting me along with him and spinning me through air. For a fleeting second, I feel as if I were flying again.

Then he sets me down, still grinning, and says the words I both need more than oxygen and dread more than my own death, because they can lead to his.

"I love you, Catnip."

This time I expected him to say it, yet I find myself speechless again. Why does it always come as a surprise? Why do I find it so hard to accept his feelings and admit I share them? Why do I have to hurt him like this? And myself too? I already know I'm not letting the Capitol tear us apart. When I hear his voice saying those words, I almost believe that we could tear down the Capitol together.

Almost.

They fuel the fire within me until it threatens to destroy everything around. The best thing I can do is trying to quench the blaze, so that no one else has to burn in it.

The silence between stretches uncomfortably while the flames inside me drown in cold regret. When I finally find my voice, I choke out the worst possible answer.

"I... I know."

"Catnip..."

I flinch at the hurt and disappointment in his eyes and voice. I can only hope he sees how much I wanted to say something else.

Gale releases me.

Angry my own cowardice, I throw myself at him before he can walk away. I grab his coat; bury my head in his chest to block out his pained expression and press myself to him, hoping that my heart, desperately hammering against his ribcage, would save me and somehow convey the right answer.

"I'm... I'm sorry," I mutter into his coat. "And you know... you know what you mean to me..."

He gently pries me away and I force my head up to face him. This time, I can hardly decipher the emotions on his face. _Did the message get through_?

"No, Catnip, sometimes I just don't," Gale says softly. "But don't let me make it harder for you." He closes his eyes for a moment, as if trying to lock all his feelings inside. Then he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. At the touch of his lips I instantly recall the fateful kiss we've shared a few weeks ago, but I push the memory out of my mind. Now I can't let it distract me. We have to plan our escape now. Then I can kiss him as much as I want. At least I hope so.

I try to get him back on track. "We have to tell our families to get ready... and convince Haymitch... and Peeta..."

That wipes the smile off his face. "You want to take _them_ along?"

"Gale, I have to. I owe my life to them. If I escaped, Snow would go after them to get his revenge. I can't allow that."

Thoughts flash behind his eyes faster than I can follow. "Right... I'm not telling you I like the idea..." he says, his hand cupping my face again, "but I understand you can't let them down. You don't let people down."

"I do all the time," I say softly, my hands locking behind his neck.

Sadness flickers in his eyes when he realizes what am I referring to, but only for a moment. "Only if you can't help it."

He squeezes me in his arms for a moment and lets go. "So we have our mothers, Prim, Rory, Vick, Posy, Peeta and Haymitch... that's a lot of people."

That many... Saying it aloud makes it sound even more hopeless - how can we all elude the Capitol and survive through the winter?

"We have to try, Gale. There's already an uprising going on in Eight, our position is getting more dangerous every day..."

"Uprising in Eight?" Gale cuts me off. I look into his eyes, and see them blazing even more intently than when he lays them on me. The thought makes my throat tighten.

"Yes... we have to..."

"Uprising already going on," he muses, lost in thought. "Catnip, then we have to stay and fight! It is the chance we've been waiting for..."

 _Oh no. I shouldn't have told him_. "Are you crazy? People are dying out there Gale! What if..."

"People were dying before as well, Catnip. You saw a few of them." I flinch and he takes me into his arms again. "I'm sorry. But we have to stop it once and for all. You take everyone and run. I'd trust you to protect them. I'll stay here. I have to get back at them. For everything they've done to you... to us... to everyone..."

I hold onto him tightly. "Gale, no. I can't let you..."

He silences me by briefly pressing his lips against mine. A spark of electricity flickers and dies between us.

"Catnip, the only person in the world I never wanted to fight against is you. But I can't run if there's a slightest chance to win."

"Do you believe there is?"

"Ever since I can remember."

I realize I can't convince him by myself. I can only hope Hazelle would make him see reason. His family needs him. And so do I.

* * *

Later, Gale slips through the fence with a wild turkey he'd shot along the way, saying he'd stop by at Cray's. I wait behind, like I always do so that we wouldn't be seen together. I stay longer than I should, my thoughts swirling, torn between anger at his stubbornness and my own reluctance.

When I finally make my way towards the town square, the sight of what's happening there makes my blood run cold. I break into run, weaving through thickening crowd, pushing people aside. I stand between Gale's bloodied, unconscious form and the new Peacekeeper wielding a whip before I actually decided to do so.

 _As long as there is a slightest chance, I will stand and fight_.

 

**2**

Mother closes the kitchen doors behind me, leaving me alone with Gale. Slowly, I drag my exhausted legs to the chair by the table and collapse into it. Sharp pain shoots through my injured cheek at the sudden impact.

Gale's wounds are covered with bandages now, but I wouldn't count them even if they weren't. I wouldn't want know how many times should I multiply my own pain to imagine the torture he's gone through. What if I'd stayed behind the fence, stewing in my own confusion, five minutes longer? Would he be dead now? I shudder at the thought.

I saved him. No, scratch that. _We_ saved him. Haymitch and Peeta had to help me. I wouldn't have succeeded without them. If I am enough to condemn him, why am I not enough to save him? Now I'm saddled with another debt, but this one I will gladly pay.

 _He is not dead_. _My Gale is not dead_. My hands find their way to his face, as if I needed to touch him for confirmation. I feel the feverish warmth of his skin, and know the fire within him is alive and kicking, battling his injuries. My fingertips gently trace the sharply defined contours of his face, straying from his strong jawline rugged with dark stubble to his sharp cheekbones, and then to his lips, full and soft under the rough chapped skin. My insides tremble with the memory of his kisses as I touch them, his slow breath fanning over my skin, reminding me that he is alive, still alive...

And I am not letting him out of my sight again, I know I wouldn't be this lucky next time. We are both alive, but as good as dead, so we can try to make the most of it.

I lean down and kiss him. Gale lifts his eyelids, heavy with morphling, and a ghost of a smile graces his lips. "Hey, Catnip."

 _He is alive_. And the fire smoldering in his eyes beyond the haze of drugs is enough to make me feel alive, too.

"Hey, Gale."

"Thought... thought you'd be already gone."

"No. I am going to stay here and cause all kinds of trouble."

"Me too," he manages before the drugs pull him back under. And that's right. We are staying where we belong, to live or die together.

* * *

The wounds on Gale's back are healing steadily. I finish dabbing them with a cloth soaked in some herbal infusion, and he turns around to face me.

"Thank you, Catnip," he says.

"Hey, it was nothing." I look down, trying to hide my certainty that he's not talking about me helping him _now_. But he wouldn't let me off that easily, and gently tips my chin upward with one finger so that I have to look into his eyes.

"I meant thank you for saving my life. For taking that lash instead of me."

I squirm under the intensity of his gaze.

"I… I couldn't let them kill you, could I?" I don't want to hear an answer and quickly continue: "Thank you for saving me too. From running away like a miserable coward. If…" my voice trails off. If he hadn't been whipped, would I still be here? Would we ?

Gale moves his hand up to up my cheek and runs his thumb along the mark from the whip, still blazing red against my uncharacteristically pale skin.

"No, Catnip," he says softly. "You are the bravest person I know. That is one of the reasons why I love you so much."

I open and close my mouth, but no words come out. Could I answer him with another silent kiss? Another _I know_? Would he forgive me? Would I forgive myself?

But Gale doesn't wait for any answer, and leans down to kiss me. My hands splay against his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his smooth, uninjured skin over his lean muscles, and I tilt my head upwards to meet his lips. He is awake and I am ready, and there is nothing more to lose, nothing more to hide from. He is mine and I am his. Anything else is unthinkable.

Unlike last time, I no longer feel as if I were flying to the stars, getting dizzier every second. Now I am already there, basking in their light. I'm not spinning me around, I think I've never felt steadier. Now I dare to believe that this is real, that _we_ are real... Gale holds me so tightly against him I can't imagine any power strong enough to pry us apart. The heat radiating from his body seeps through my clothes to my skin and our hearts, pulsing in the same rhythm, become a single bonfire, filling and consuming us.

After the first time, I wondered, if we had poured all our passion into that one kiss. Now I realize it will never happen, I know that we have enough to last for a lifetime and desperately wish we had a chance to spend it together.

 


	5. deja vu

Only when the new Quarter Quell rules are announced, I see the full extent of my own naivety. Now I understand that the game is never really over. The Capitol has claimed my life the moment I'd volunteered to take Prim's place. If I lost, they would have taken it straight away. The first victory only prolonged the fight.

I'll be returning to the Games, as if experiencing them once wasn't enough.

Now I almost understand why Haymitch drinks all the time, and decide to stop by for a taste of his medicine.

 _Ugh, not good_.

We do agree on something much more important, though.

* * *

 

On the way home, my feet slip and stumble on the familiar road, and my thoughts blunder through a dark maze of guilt.

 _How could I ever imagine that not even the might of the Capitol could tear me apart from Gale? Snow would never let me out of his grasp. Now he is reaping me again, and Peeta or Haymitch along with me. I brought this upon them. I should have known better_.

Two words keep echoing and swirling in bizarre patterns inside my drunken brain:  _my fault my fault my fault_...

But when I make my unsteady way up the steps to our house and right into Gale's arms, I cling to him for dear life, and I can no longer bring myself to care. I let him lift me up and carry me into the house, maintaining a white-knuckled grip on him. When I show no trace of willingness to let him go, Gale just sits down on the couch with me and holds me in his lap. Burying my head in his chest, I let silent tears soak into his shirt. I've been wrong. As long as I have him and my family, I have something to lose. And now the time has come.

 _If I let my love cause so much damage, I could at least tell him_.

"Gale, I…" I begin, trying not to mess up my chance, but I falter again. He deserves to know. But should I be telling him, now that it's certain that I'll soon have to leave him forever? Would it make our farewell easier or harder? Would he even believe me, with my slurred voice and liquory breath?

 _I don't want to die and leave anything unsaid between us_.

Long time ago, I had forbidden myself to admit my love for Gale because the threat of reaping hovered above our heads, and would hover above the heads of our children, if we had any. When it descended upon us for the first time, I survived, and almost seized my second chance. There wouldn't be a third. Now I know I am about to lose him forever, thought I hardly know what does it mean to truly love him. The pain of having loved and lost couldn't be worse than what I'm feeling now with my heart shattering under the weight of countless regrets. 

 _Tell him_...

Letting my sobs ebb slowly, I struggle to steady my breathing. I hear a slight rustle in my ear as Gale smooths my hair, feel his fast heartbeat under my palms.

 _Speak now or hold you peace forever_... _Would I find peace if I don't tell him? Would I find it if I do?_

I'll never know. My lips remain parted and silent and still as if I were already dead. But Gale understands even my silence and leans so close our mouths touch. "Shh," he whispers, his lips gently brushing mine, "I know, Catnip."

"I know," he repeats, more insistent, more forceful. "I don't know how could I ever doubt it. I love you..."

Slipping my hands into his hair, I pull him so close he has no more space and no more breath to speak. Tears trickle from the corners of my eyes as I claim his lips. His hands slip under my clothes, touching me, pressing into me as if he wanted me to take his fingerprints with me to the Arena, as if nothing could wipe them away from my skin. That's what I want too, and I kiss him with reckless abandon, wishing to do more, to let our passion burn until only ashes remain, to take more of him, to take everything... _do I dare to risk taking too much?_

But even if I did, I feel myself slipping away, the alcohol and exhaustion slowly shutting me down. My body wilts in his embrace, and I'm dimly aware of how Gale lifts us up again, eases me down on the couch, and tucks me under a blanket alone.

 

All I have to hold onto now is his hand still curled around mine, and the world goes dark. 


	6. coming clean

The train stops, supposedly for an hour, so I dismount, walk some distance behind it and sit down between the rails.

Peeta soon wanders over to me. My heart clenches.

We are in the Games again, and I don't want to play anymore. _What to do now?_ Maybe I should to bite the bullet and tell him what's real and what's not. He'd revealed his true feelings right at the beginning, so it's high time for me to return the courtesy.

At least I know how to begin. "I am sorry," I say, looking at him with the most genuine emotion I've ever felt around him – remorse.

He sits down beside me. "What for, Katniss?"

No, I'm not getting off that easily. It's not like I deserved it anyway. "Everything. Lying to you. Breaking your heart. Getting us into this mess. Maybe if we stayed together, Snow wouldn't have come up with this. But I couldn't do it. You know Gale and I..."

Peeta interrupts me with the worst possible question: "Do you love Gale?"

 _I don't want to die and leave any lies between us_.

Swallowing dryly, I nod.

_Now, was it so hard?_

The sadness in his eyes is almost more than I can bear, but his lips curl into a gentle smile. "Then you have nothing to be sorry for. You can't be sorry for loving someone. I'm not sorry for loving you. Or for saying it."

"Peeta, I…"

He cuts across me again. "But maybe I should be. Without the star-crossed loves act, you'd have won the first Games alone. Lived with him. Maybe you wouldn't be returning to the Arena now. Are you sorry for saving me?"

"No," I say, relieved that I can let him know, "I'm glad I did that." _At least something_.

He notices my sincerity and his smile widens. "You see. Loving someone else doesn't make you a bad person. Especially if you loved him long before you as much as talked to me."

 _True_. Once I started, it feels almost good. Weight keeps dropping from my chest, so heavy I don't know how I could have walked around carrying it.

"I didn't dare to admit it. Not even to myself. After… after the Games… I somehow… realized that…" my voice trails off, but I wouldn't know what to say even if it didn't.

"What? That you want to love someone other than your sister and perhaps mother? I'd gladly take credit for that, even if it's not  _me_."

Sighing, I shake my head. This is our last chance for an unobserved conversation, last chance to learn all the answers we need. So I ask him something I wanted to know for a long time.

"How could you risk your life for me right from the start? You hardly even knew me then, and I let you believe there's more to it than trying to survive when I played along, but there really wasn't much left after we came back, and then I needed _you_ to play along during the tour and you just… did? Why? How come you don't hate me?" I blurt out. Once I started, I can't bring myself to stop. Tears threaten to spill form my eyes. Could I let him see me cry? It doesn't matter anymore, not after everything I just told him.

If I were in his place, I'd hate the girl before me with a passion. How can he still look at me with that gentle warmth in his eyes?

The look remains unchanged, but his words surprise me. "I know you better now. You aren't the girl I dreamed about all my life," he says flatly.

"I never was. I'm sorry." Tears are flowing down my cheeks now. He gingerly stretches his hand to wipe them away. I let him do it.

"But you are more than that, Katniss. I respect you. Admire you. I love you," he notices the pained look in my eyes and continues: "There is no other way to put it, however uncomfortable it makes you feel. But I no longer think I could spend my life with you, if I had any left, you see. You really are the Girl on Fire, Katniss. You'd burn me like a toast."

My eyes widen in surprise as he begins to laugh. I shake my head and sigh again. _Did he just give me an absolution?_

Soon, I am laughing with him.

"What about the Quell, then? We still have to fool them again."

"I have something planned. You wouldn't even have to kiss me. Unless you wanted to," he adds.

Suddenly, inexplicably, I find myself wanting exactly that. I lean closer and chastely touch my lips to his cheek. There is passion or desire. Just a warm feeling that comes with realization that I'm going to spend the last moments of my life with a very good friend.

"Thank you, Peeta. For everything."

"I thank you, Katniss. You will return back to him. And that's a promise."

* * *

For a moment, a sense of peace I've never felt before engulfs me. But when Peeta leaves me alone again, the emptiness I've felt ever since I was separated from Gale returns with crushing force. If we've done nothing wrong, why do we have to pay such high price for our love?

How could I even imagine that not even the might of the Capitol could tear us apart? One sentence was enough to doom us. _Tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of Victors_. Not even Peeta understands. If I died in the Games, they'd probably let Gale live and suffer. If I survived, he'd be killed the moment I arrived home, so that I could see it, just to punish me further.

My firm decision to save Peeta feels almost comforting now. I have no future to share with Gale and I'll gladly give the chance to live to Peeta, even if I didn't have a debt to pay. I can count on him to take care of my family, too. He already realized that I'm not the little girl with a beautiful voice he had fallen in love with so long ago. If one of us can live on and find some sense of peace, it would be him. I cannot allow a person like him to be lost to the Games.

But I don't want to be lost either. The fire inside me still burns, stubbornly resisting all attempts to be put out. I want to return, to see my family again, to touch Gale again, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. Hugging my knees to my chest, I look into the bright orange sunset that illuminates the sky, making it look as if the whole world was burning.

_Do I dare to wish for all of us to survive? What would have to happen to make my wish come true?_


	7. the real fight

Jumbled memories from the Quell flash before my eyes as I lay silent and motionless in my hospital bed.

Cinna had dressed me in a wedding dress for the interview, and sent me off with a sad, mysterious smile. After all, the Capitol audience will never get to see my wedding now, and I should twirl for them and give them a spectacle they won't forget.

I shouldn't have been surprised when the dress started burning. But the smoke of my transformation hid whatever feelings showed on my face, and when it cleared, I was no longer a tribute, a victor, a girl who kissed and promised to marry for their entertainment.

I wasn't Katniss Everdeen either.

The smooth fabric turned into black feathers, and the long white sleeves imprisoning my arms became wings. I became one with my token and my song.

The mockingjay.

There was no saving me after that, but Peeta still tried to go with his original plan.

During his interview, with pearls and wisps of burned silk still scattered on the stage, he made an announcement about our supposed secret marriage and my supposed pregnancy. All the cameras veered towards me, broadcasting the angry tears I couldn't keep out of my eyes for all Panem to see... and then back to Peeta as he explained that the stress of training for the next Games caused me to lose the baby, killing the very thing I was striving to protect at all costs. By now my grief has turned to anger, and I wouldn't allow anyone to as much as lay a finger on me, not even him.

So that was his plan to protect me, and to give a closure to our charade. It went right along with my plan to make sure Peeta gets out of the Arena this time, even if I had to pretend I've gone mad with grief over losing something that never existed, and killing myself to absolve him of my punishment. Snow certainly wasn't convinced, and I'm sure that even if my plan failed and Peeta got his way, he wouldn't have crowned me Victor. Not even to send me home to see everyone I could still live for die. The audience dutifully shed some fake tears over the tragic lovers of District Twelve, though, even if they probably just mourned their favorite fairy-tale ending with a whimper.

After three days in the clockwork Arena, seventy-two hours of being periodically assaulted by death in the form of poisonous mist, murderous monkeys and tsunamis and madness in the form of jabberjays screaming in the voices of Prim and Gale, I've come very close to losing my mind for real.

And our allies have protected us in accordance to another plan, a plan we'd known nothing about. And as far as I'm concerned, it ended disastrously. Peeta stayed true to his word and saved me, but fell into the clutches of the Capitol for his trouble. I broke my unspoken promise to save him and wound up here, my body safe and healing, but my mind a wreck with no will to live and act anymore, because everything I could remember doing led to more pain and suffering for people I cared about. I have no power to undo the damage and I'd rather die than cause more harm. I don't even know what happened at home. Are Prim and Gale still alive, after my stunt with the forcefield?

People come and go, talking, reasoning, persuading, but I pay no more mind to them than to the clicking of the murderous jungle insects. Can't they see that their precious Girl on Fire is extinguished for good?

*

Then, miraculously, Gale appears at my bedside, singed and bandaged; and when he encloses my palm in his, and his lips, hot and rough, trail blazing kisses along my fingers, I know that our world burned and he had come through the flames to raise me from ashes.

*

District Twelve is no more, just a fraction of its people made it to the secret shelters of Thirteen that survived after all. The Rebellion is spreading, and there is no way back, only forward. Our only hope lies in defeating the Capitol now, and I have to fight until the end to give at least some sense, some purpose to the destruction I'd sown, and to the sacrifices of those who have contributed to my escape from the Arena.

So I become the Mockingjay, the figurehead and the warrior of the Rebellion. Gale fights faithfully by my side, guarding my back and shielding me with his own body. We are hunters again, powerful and inseparable, working as a deadly team. It feels horribly easy until it becomes too hard. In the quiet moments between missions, we have to hold onto each other to keep the flames we spread with our exploding bows from consuming our souls.

*

But then the Capitol starts broadcasting propos featuring Peeta, and my resolve falters. He is not dead, he is still alive. Is that better or worse? Does it mean there is some hope for him, or only that he can be punished for every single action I take?

When he warns us against a planned bombing of Thirteen during his last TV appearance, and droplets of his blood splatter the floor under his chair mere seconds later, I know that the second answer is correct.

*

In the underground shelter, Gale slips under my blanket every night, holds me in the darkness and makes it seem almost bearable. But on the third night, I whisper the question I've been asking myself all the time, but didn't dare to voice aloud for fear of the answer. "What do you think they are doing to him now?"

"Whatever it is, we'll have to save him as soon as we get out our here," he whispers back, lips touching my ear.

I snuggle closer, willing his words to become true.

*

All clear.

*

They let us out of the shelter and drag me straight in front of the cameras, to tell Panem that the Mockingjay is alive and ready to take flight again.

But no, she is not.

She has no strength left to fly, now that one of her wings is being mangled and broken more and more with every passing second. Rose petals, Snow's last scornful message to me, are scattered outside, red like the droplets of Peeta's blood. Something in me breaks and I see it everywhere, trickling from the sky, showering me in guilt, and rising from the ground, threatening to swallow and drown me. Soon I am drowning in my own tears, unable to form a coherent sentence, for fear that every word could aggravate Peeta's ordeal. I cry and scream until sharp pain prickles my neck and the world goes black, and the last thing I hear is Haymitch and Plutarch babbling something about a rescue mission.

*

It's the good news, but still not news I could bear - because I find out Gale is going as soon as I wake up. I rip some tubes out of my arm, dash out of the hospital with a cursing Haymitch in my wake, and run blindly through the underground maze of corridors until I collide with Gale just as he leaves his room.

"Don't you dare to go anywhere without me," I gasp, throwing my arms about his waist and holding onto him with all my strength, as if I believed I could change his decision.

He gently pries me away and gives me a questioning look.

"I thought you wanted to save him."

"Of course I want to save him, but I don't want _you_ to go."

"Catnip, did you tell him not to stand between me and Thread?"

"No, but…"

"What difference is there? It was a volunteer action. I owe him one, and even if I didn't, if there's a chance to get him out of that hell, I'd go for it. And I know you need him safe."

Shaking my head in exasperation, I mutter into his shirt: "It shouldn't be about me. We need to save him for him."

A sigh rumbles deep in his chest. "I've seen how it's killing you, though. I wouldn't let my Mockingjay drown in sorrow. We all need you. Panem needs you," he cups my cheek and gently tilts my face upwards to meet his gaze. "I need you, Catnip," he whispers, his thumb brushing against my lips.

"And I need _you_ , so you'd better get back safe, too," I say softly just before the distance between our faces disappears.

We kiss until my head starts spinning, and then I let him go, because the stubborn gleam in his eyes convinces me that he would keep his word.

*

Sure enough, Gale returns, injured but alive.

*

And so does Peeta, his body battered yet breathing, but as I run to embrace him, I discover that his mind is dead, at least to me. Instead of clasping me in his arms, he locks his fingers around my throat and squeezes until Boggs pulls him away, and I sink to the floor, half-dead.

When I awake, they tell me he's been hijacked, that all his memories involving me have been altered by tracker jacker venom, making him hate me enough to want to kill me. Making him the perfect weapon against me. The very thought hurts me more than every breath I have to squeeze through my battered larynx.

So this is Snow's revenge?

As I contemplate mine, I shudder at my own thoughts. Suddenly, I'm afraid of being alone with the vindictive desires running through my head, but there's nobody to placate me.

*

Two days later, after being confined to bed with the injury he'd sustained during the rescue mission, Gale finally sneaks into my room after curfew and stands beside my bed, alive and solid against the background of moving shadows.

"Does it still hurt?" I ask softly, motioning to his bandaged shoulder.

Gale shakes his head. "Not as much as this," he replies in a strained whisper, bending down and brushing his fingertips over the exposed bruises on my throat. Then he sits down on my bed, slips his hand good hand under my back to cradle my head in his palm, and carefully lifts me up. As his lips lightly caress my neck, the pain seems to ebb under their gentle touch.

"It is not his fault," I mutter softly.

"I know," he whispers, lips moving against my skin, trailing down to my collarbone. "We'll make Snow pay."

A strange tingle, like an electric current, passes through my body. Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank Gale's head up to face me, and the cold fire in his eyes makes my breath hitch in my throat.

I want the Capitol to burn in it.

"Swear we'll make him pay," I say fiercely as I feel the vengeful blaze spreading back into my veins.

"I swear," he says before our mouths collide.

For a few frenzied moments, I feel invincible.


	8. grasping at life

Staying underground in Thirteen, with the living reminder of my guilt and failure restrained in a hospital bed just a few rooms away, becomes unbearable. Desperate to do something, anything to give my own continued existence some sense of purpose, I ask to be transferred to District Two, where the influence of the Capitol still remains unbroken. I throw everything I have into battle, convincing myself that I am where the rebels need me, and that every step I take and every shot I fire brings me closer to defeating Snow, to killing Snow. Mounting injuries weaken my body, but my grim resolve hardens.

 _I can't afford to die before Snow does_.

So here I am, fighting until I have no strength left, and bleeding until my body has no more blood to spare. I don't even bother to tell the medics, my natural cycle is the last thing I'd miss nowadays.

I'm alone among allies who remain strangers, alone with my desire for revenge consuming me from within.

Gale remains in Thirteen, working with Beetee in Special Weaponry, probably finishing their most horrible weapon. However much I'd craved to give Snow a taste of his own medicine, the very thought makes me shudder. Gale had asked to accompany me to Two, I suspect he even wanted to scrap the project before his idea became reality of steel and explosives, but Coin detained him in Thirteen until further notice.

Double-exploding bombs probably appealed to her.

* * *

After another couple of months, Gale finally appears in the woods of District Two, and finds me sitting forlornly on the forest floor during a hunting break.

Only now I allow myself to admit how much I've missed him. I've been more lonely than in the Games, more focused on destruction, caring less about my own survival. For a few moments he just stands before me, taking in my slumped form and dead eyes, then he sinks down to his knees and takes hold of my hands.

"Catnip," he whispers, "are you in there?"

"I'm here, Gale. Still alive..." but I know it's no longer exactly true and so does he, just by looking at me.

"Katniss, I've seen corpses with more life in them. Snow is still choking you. Please don't let him. That's exactly what he wants."

"I need to kill him to make him stop."

"Yes, you do. But you can't kill yourself in the process.''

"We are all killing ourselves in the process, Gale," I scoff, shaking my head. "Did you finish the... thing?"

His fingers twitch nervously. "We had to... but now I hope there will be no reason to use it. I'm beginning to think it's worse than what Snow did... and I don't trust Coin with it either, she..."

But I'm no longer listening. _What Snow did_... I'm afraid to ask, but I need to know, so I switch one dreadful topic for another. "How is Peeta?"

Gale actually smiles a little. "Improving every day. Delly is working miracles. Good memories and all that..." he allows his voice to trail off, waiting for my reaction.  _Improving_. I feel only relief, but need to blink back a few tears anyway.

Gale tightens his grip on my hands. "Catnip, I understand that you are concerned for him. No one should suffer through what they did to him. But why do _you_ feel so guilty about it?"

Slipping my hands from his grip, I hug my knees to my chest. "They brainwashed him to turn him into a weapon against me. They tortured him because of me... I hurt him..."

"No, Catnip, _they_ hurt him... not you. And I'm sure _he_ wouldn't want you to blame yourself."

"I know _he_ wouldn't..." I mutter, staring past him into distance, "Perhaps I'm trying to focus everything on him... because if I were to feel guilty for every person who died in Twelve..." Reaching out, I brush my fingers against the burn mark on his cheek. "That could have been you too..."

Pain flickers in his eyes, and he closes them briefly as if to hide it. He gently pries my hand off his face and presses my fingers against his lips. "Yes," he mutters against them, "but I'm here... maybe I could have saved more people... maybe... " he shakes his head desperately and remains silent for a moment, head bowed, eyes closed.

"But guilt-tripping ourselves to hell and back wouldn't help us now. You did not kill them, Catnip," he continues after regaining his composure, louder, more certain, "Snow did. You have to live... for each and every one of them."

"I'm fighting for them... and I'll die... like they died for me..."

Gale heaves an exasperated sigh and gently takes my face into his hands. "No, Catnip," he whispers, gazing intently into my eyes, "if anyone deserves a chance to live a better life, it's you. Don't give up. Please don't give up, " he repeats, pressing his lips to mine, his voice softer now, more insistent.

Sliding my face from between his palms, I let my forehead sink against his shoulder.

"I'll try," I mutter into his collar, suddenly clutching onto his uniform with strength I didn't know I still possessed. Or maybe it's been lost already, and he somehow brought it back.

"You still have reason to live, Catnip," he mutters into my hair as he pulls me into a tight embrace. "Your life is worth fighting for."

_Is it? Do I want it to be?_

Eyes closed, I listen to his heartbeat and feel his chest rise and fall with every breath, imagining that the life pulsing through his body seeps into mine and fills the empty shell that remained of me. Here, in his arms, I almost dare to believe that the world we are fighting for may hold some future for us.

And even if my hope proved futile in the end, I find myself wanting to make the most out of however little time we have left.

* * *

Later, when we secretly return to the woods, I cling to Gale tighter and touch him more boldly than ever before, as if my life depended on it, as if mere contact with his skin could save me.

_I want to love him before I lose him._

Gale gently pries me away, putting some distance between us. "What's on your mind, Catnip?" he asks softly, confusion and hope battling in his eyes.

 _What's on my mind?_ I don't know and I no longer care, so I tell him the only answer I want to believe:

"It's down to us now," I whisper, desperately willing my lie to become true. I want to forget the world and be alone with him, beyond the reach of the war that squeezes the life out of me more effectively than Peeta's hijacked fingers.

"It's always been," Gale says softly and tries to pull me even closer, as if he wanted to mold our bodies together.

We are in the woods, alone and unobserved in the only place where we can be ourselves. Feeling the same desire rising within me, I no longer consider quenching it. Now that the war has battered my body beyond proper function, I can allow anything to happen without concern for consequences. So I kiss Gale with every ounce of love, need and passion I'd ever tried to suppress and resume my fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

_I don't want to die and leave anything undone between us._

A few frantic moments later, we sink down into a comfortable bed of soft moss and discarded gray uniforms. Gale is touching me in ways I've never even imagined, but I yield unto his caresses without a trace of fear or hesitation, and let my senses follow the blazing trail of his hands and his lips.

Now we are truly becoming one being, our bodies moving in perfect harmony, finally entwining and merging as intimately as our souls. When I wrap my legs tightly around Gale's waist to pull him as close as I want him, the pressure of his body entering mine almost amounts to pain, but he'd prepared me so well the discomfort soon gives way to bliss. I let the waves of pleasure wash my mind clean until only we remain, until my lie becomes true. For the few precious moments of pure ecstasy, all our pain, guilt and sorrow disappears in a whirlwind of all-consuming fire.

After, as I feel his breath slowly evening out against my shoulder, our spent bodies still united, I open my mouth to say I love him, but only a sigh escapes me. No, the words don't go out easily when I mean them. Gale realized it so long ago, but after all, he knows me better than I know myself.

So I just slide my left hand into his hair to press his lips back to my silent ones, and let my right trail over his back, writing letters onto his skin with my fingers - 

i love you

\- tracing them over the scars on his body and wishing to heal the wounds in his heart.

He pulls away a little and looks into my eyes, fingertips caressing my cheek.

"I love you, Catnip," he whispers. "Whatever happens, please remember that."

Then he kisses me again, not even giving me a chance to answer. I return his kisses with equal passion, knowing I'll cling to him as tenaciously as to life itself.

_Even if the war claimed my life tomorrow; I'd die knowing I had lived._

* * *

Now I know that pretending that my friend is my lover was much better than pretending that my lover is my cousin. What used to be difficult becomes almost impossible. Halfway through Finnick's and Annie's wedding, I truly realize how bizarre our predicament is.

Weddings never really intrigued me. The idea that I could get married myself never really crossed my mind. I used to think it was too much ado about nothing, that no love could possibly be worth the risk of creating another human only to condemn them to a bleak and hopeless life in District Twelve. But now, seeing all this happiness in the midst of war, after I'd learned how easily death claims us all, and what does love mean in the short time we are allowed here, I almost understand it.

The gap separating me from Gale suddenly hurts, like a wound lacerating my own body. As I close my eyes in vain attempt to block out the pain, I find myself imagining the unimaginable...

Only much later, when the cameras are turned off and merriment all around grows too exuberant for anyone to notice us, I finally find myself wrapped in Gale's arms, swaying to a tune that has nothing to do with the music. Gale holds me so tightly he is almost carrying me, making me feel is if we were flying together again. Drunk on his proximity, I rise on tiptoes and whisper right into his ear:

"Too bad we are supposed to be cousins. It could have been us."

Gale misses a step, and we almost tumble down. Then he steadies us both and holds me at arm's length, his intense eyes searching my face, probably trying to determine how seriously I meant my words. After a second of considering it myself, come to a conclusion, that I've never been more certain in my life. Gale seems to read the answer in my eyes, because he pulls me even closer than before and whispers:

"Let's pretend it is."

"No. With you, I want everything to be real."

"It is real when we both believe it."

He leans down to rest his forehead against mine and something passes between our eyes, warmer and more lasting that the passionate fire we shared before.

An unspoken _I do_.

 


	9. darkness before the fall

The flickering glare of a single lamp we left burning does little to lighten the oppressive darkness. I'm huddled in Gale's arms under stale fur covers, teetering on the edge between sleep and waking, with memories swirling in my head and seeping into nightmares.

_Where am I? What brought me here?_

I see the Nut is collapsing under ruthless avalanches, ruined in a huge mining accident, an accident _we_ caused. Gale surveying the effects of his own trap with terrified amazement, eyes wide and shocked and dead. Our joined hands, cold and dry and numb, yet flowing with unseen blood.

_What have we done?_

The survivors emerging from the tunnel, my vain attempt to conciliate, to stop more senseless carnage from happening, the treacherous bullet tearing into me from behind, only Cinna's last gift preventing it from ending my life.

_What do I have to do to stop the madness?_

The bruised ribs, the morphling dreams, the pain, more pain as I do my best to win my place in the Star Squad, to return to the front line, to attack the Capitol, to kill Snow, _to kill Snow_...

Peeta arriving to join our squad, with dark circles under his eyes and manacles on his hands, presumably to stop him from killing me in case of relapse, but making him perfectly useless in combat.

_Who sent him here?_

The pods exploding, the blood, the gas, Boggs dying, passing command onto me. Me dragging everyone along on my mad, fake mission. Gale backing up my plan immediately, as if he'd known about it from the start, but looking tense and worried,

_I know he's not really afraid of anything that lies ahead of us. What is it, then?_

The catacombs, the mutts, the deaths, deaths, deaths, the trail of blood and sacrifice bringing us here, of all places, into the cellar of a Capitol stylist beyond her zenith, to prepare for our last mad dash into the heart of the Capitol.

Peeta watching me, watching _us_ with tired, sad, bloodshot eyes, stubbornly keeping his manacles is if they could chain him to sanity.

_What is he doing here? Is he supposed to kill me? Am I supposed to kill him?_

But I'd never do it. Never. The thought echoes weakly in my head, and I try to hold onto it. I wish I could take his pain away, to make up for everything he suffered because of me … even now, I hear his voice, dry and raspy, asking for help, but I can't make out his words through the haze of sleep.

_Is he haunting me in my nightmares, he, who would never accuse me in reality?_

His voice whispers through the gloom again, and I slowly realize that it is real now, no longer a memory, no longer a nightmare. Peeta is not accusing me, just asking for water. Slowly regaining consciousness, I feel that Gale carefully disentangles himself from my arms, not noticing I am awake, and rises.

Through half closed lids, I watch him make his way towards Peeta, picking up a water bottle along the way.

* * *

"Thanks," mutters Peeta after taking a long sip, his voice sounding less ghostly now that his throat is no longer parched.

Gale just nods, eyes focused on the manacles.

Peeta gives him a tired look. "Why do you keep glaring at me like that? I told Katniss already I'm not standing in your way."

"It's not about that. If Coin sent you here, it means she wants to use you against Katniss too."

_Is that what he is afraid of?_

"And maybe not only you," Gale continues. "That could mean... No, not even she would..." he trails off, sudden horror marring his features.

But Peeta ignores it and presses on: "Would you kill me if you had to? To save Katniss?"

Gale shakes his head, probably both to clear it from whatever troubled him a moment before, and to answer Peeta's question.

"No," he says firmly. "She cares about you. And always will, don't forget that. We have to get you out of this alive."

"Would you help me for her, then?"

"I can promise to do my best. And not only because of her. But we should get some sleep. She'll need all our strength tomorrow."

Peeta tries to shrug. "Haven't slept for days, not since I left Thirteen. I can't sleep, not without being sedated. Not after I... I tried to... I see it every time I close my eyes…"

Pity and deep understanding flash through Gale's eyes. "I could knock you out. Boggs taught us some technique that's supposed to be safe. It should work for a few hours. I don't really know how you'd feel after, though."

"Try it."

"Hey, but you should get rid of these," says Gale, touching the manacles. "Nobody would appreciate if you let your hands rot off, you know."

Peeta takes a sharp breath. "No!"

Gale scoffs quietly. "Come on, at least relax." I hear a slight rattle and clinking as he coaxes Peeta into a safer position so that he can rest his bound hands without risking to cut his circulation off. "If you don't take care of yourself, we'll have to do it for you, you know."

Peeta lets out a loud breath, almost a laugh. "Okay."

"Ready to sleep?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Gale pats Peeta's shoulder, and then presses into a knot of nerves on his neck. His hand lingers to check his pulse as Peeta slumps forward, breathing loudly and regularly.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

"Thanks," I echo Peeta's words as Gale lies back down beside me, throwing the fur covers over our heads to muffle any sound, so that we wouldn't disturb the others.

He leans close enough to press our cheeks together and whispers into my ear: "I can only hope to live long enough to keep my word. I have to get you back too, safe and strong."

"Why?" I whisper back, feeling his hair tickle my lips. "After we kill Snow... "

"There is still Coin. I don't trust her... not after... "

"What? Sending Peeta here? She probably wanted to worm her way out of the amnesty promise, but..."

"No, Katniss, she obviously wanted to use a person you care about against you... "

Pressing my finger against his lips, I try to silence him. Now, with the last fight ahead of us, I can't afford to be worried about what I left behind.

"He may not be the only one," Gale continues stubbornly.

"Now we are supposed to be dead, " I counter. "She can't hurt me anymore... "

"Katniss, she has the... "

"And tomorrow, Snow would be dead and us too... there will be no more point. If I die, no one is ever going to hurt anyone because of me."

"You won't be dead, Catnip. You have to make it back. To Prim. As soon as possible."

Sighing, I snuggle closer. Prim is hidden away in Thirteen, far from the front lines. Safe. "I'd do anything to see her again... but she is safe for now. Much safer than we are."

"I can only hope you are right, Catnip," he whispers, as if giving in.

* * *

Closing my eyes, I try to rest, but sleep keeps eluding me. My brain refuses to shut down. The slight motion of Gale's chest under my head, rising and falling with tense, irregular breaths, reveals that he is awake as well. For a fleeting moment, I consider asking him for my own quick pass to unconsciousness.

_Couldn't we forget everything, at least for a few more hours?_

But no, I don't want to forget everything. I realize we may be sharing our very last moments together right now. Tomorrow, the only sleep that finds us will be death, we will fade away forever.

_So why not hold onto each other while we still can, while we are close enough to touch?_

Lifting my head from Gale's chest, I press my lips against his, trying to convey everything I feel, however impossible it may be, and he understands and responds with the same quiet, desperate passion, holding me so tightly I almost believe that not even death would pry me from his embrace.

Following a path of kisses over my cheek, Gale moves close to my ear, as if tell me something more, but I prefer to distract him. Pushing his uniform aside, I let my fingertips caress his body, feeling his heartbeat, relishing in the smoothness of his skin, tracing the hard ridges of muscle, wanting to take the memory with me to the grave. His lips, no longer intent on speaking, slide from my ear back to my jawline and down my neck, covering me in kisses softer than words could ever be, and his hands find their way under my clothes, worshiping every inch of my body he can reach with utmost care and tenderness, convincing me that even I am worth remembering...

… and soon he shifts behind me, not close enough to touch but closer, thrusting me into the sweetest oblivion with almost agonizing slowness. His hands still roam all over me, trailing silent confessions into my skin and I feel alive, _so alive_ he has to cover my lips with his own to prevent me from screaming it aloud.

_I don't want us to die tomorrow..._


	10. crumbling ashes

 They say we survived against all odds.

_I beg to differ._

I am dead and yet forced to breathe. Trapped in a single moment, reliving the agony of a death more painful than my own. Hundreds, thousands of times, in an eternal loop playing before my eyes.

_Prim._

For Prim, I went into the Games and started everything; I wanted to save her, to protect her, to win a better world for her. For Prim, I wanted to finish what I started.

But I failed at the very end. Dashing across the falling Capitol, shooting strangers out of my way, losing friends at every turn, stepping over corpses, crawling through blood, I had only thought in my mind. _To kill Snow_.

I needed to kill Snow, and my desire for revenge blinded me to warnings and pushed me forward, always forward, never looking back.

When I found out I had one worse enemy, it was already too late. The fire already caught.

_The fire caught Prim._

* * *

Now, prepared to fulfill my task one lifetime too late, I stand rigidly where my prep team left me, facing their last work in the mirror, and wish I could see something more than ashes of my sister in the dead grayness of my eyes.

* * *

There's a knock on the door and Gale walks in, still limping slightly from the shot wound he received during his escape from the Peacekeepers that captured him as the street under us crumbled.  

He's holding my bow and a single, ordinary arrow.

Slowly, I turn around to look into his eyes, but I might have as well kept looking at the mirror. I see nothing but my own grief.

We've shared our thoughts, our love, our bodies, our souls, but nothing remains to share now, only guilt and sorrow. We are standing mere inches apart, but divided by an abyss. The specter of Prim hovers between us, forever caught in her agonizing last moments, a screaming human torch, and everything we've been, everything we've ever had is reduced to dust in the flames.

Looking into his eyes, I don't recognize anything I've known so well, there's no gleaming silver, glinting steel or raging storm. Nothing but the ashes of a burial ground, already cold, devoid of life and hope.

I wish I could go on without asking; to spare us both the torture, but something in me yearns for confirmation.

"Was it our bomb, Gale?"

"Not our, Catnip," he says, forcing himself to look directly into my face. "You know it was my idea... After Peeta tried to kill you… I wanted to avenge everything Snow's ever done to you… even if it meant taking a leaf from his book…"

"I made you promise to make him pay…"

"No, Catnip, you didn't make me promise to do something that horrible. I wanted to scrap it, to destroy the plans as soon as I took time to think clearly… but it was too late. Coin already got wind of it and forced me and Beetee to finish it…"

Again, I remember my thoughts after visiting Snow.

_Coin._

She ordered the bomb to be dropped, she sent Prim to the front line. I should blame Coin, not Gale. I _don't_ blame Gale. But Coin planned her master stroke against me too well. I had revealed my cards to her, not suspecting that she would destroy my loved ones to destroy me. She took away both people I cannot survive without in a single blow.

Well, Gale is still alive, but despite all my reasoning, I can hardly look at him without thinking about the bomb that killed Prim.

And he knows me well enough to see the terrible realization dawning on my face.

"Catnip, if you never want to see me again, I understand. I don't even deserve to…"

I lift both hands to silence him.

"Shh," I breathe, hardly trusting my voice to keep from breaking into a sob. "Prim had no chance against Coin, not after I left her alone in Thirteen. I know that. _I know!"_ Now I'm almost choking, my body shaking all over.

The hands I'd been holding up fall to Gale's chest and my fingers desperately clench around the rough material of his uniform.

"I know," my voice drops back to whisper. "But I need to…" my hands let go and drop limply by my side. I hang my head, talking to the floor now, there seems to be more life in the cold concrete than in both of us combined. "I don't even know what I need… I need Prim, oh, Gale, I need her so much…"

My tears are flowing freely now, but I can't stop words from escaping my mouth in the form of choked sobs.

"We should have gone back… you tried to warn me… if I wasn't so hellbent on killing _him_ … maybe I could have saved her... I've come all the way there for nothing, nothing,  _nothing_ … just to watch her die…"

My voice breaks into quiet hysterics, my knees buckle, my head sways, I have to crouch down to avoid falling over.

Gale sinks down to his knees beside me, but his touch no longer brings comfort. Wherever our skin makes contact, I see red, I see our joined hands flowing with blood again and bursting into flames, Prim's blood, Prim's flames… _we_ burned _her_ …

_I can't hold onto him anymore…_

When I flinch in his grasp, Gale slowly releases me, but he doesn't pull away, his breath fans over my tear-stained cheeks as he speaks. "Catnip, I'm sorry. I can't even tell you how much I regret it. How much I'll regret it for as long as I live... however long that might be..."

My eyes widen a little.

_No, he can't mean…_

He hesitates for a moment. "Tell them you want me to fire the shot instead of you. They would let me if you asked," he whispers. " For…" his voice breaks. "For… Prim."

Her name comes out no louder than a dying breath.

I immediately understand the implication... and realize that I can't take his offer.

"No..." I whisper, "It belongs to me... I need to finish what I started."

Maybe there was something left to die inside him after all, and I just saw it happen. But he understands and makes no attempt to argue and pushes the bow into my numb hands.

"I'll be waiting, Catnip. Like always," he says softly. "Wherever we are to meet again."

I remain silent, my strength draining.

"Shoot straight, okay?"

Hearing the despair in his parting words, I don't dare to see it on his face. Letting my head sink down, as if for a nod, I keep my gaze trained on the floor.

My pain is almost easier to bear without its exact reflection haunting me through his eyes.

A wave of relief washes through me as I watch his feet leave, but then it flows away and only darkness remains, a darkness where he can never reach me again...

Gale stops in his tracks as if wanting to return, and I open my mouth as if to call him back, but no movement, no sound ensues.

_Now I need him the most, and he needs me._

But there's not enough left of us to grasp.

Our fire burned out in one explosion, we are creatures of ashes now, and we would crumble and disintegrate if we tried to hold onto each other.

_What if we wanted to?_

We've done everything together. Strange things have happened to us, no stranger would it be if we grasped hands and took the plunge beyond, now that our need to find peace threatens to overpower our urge to survive.

_But not yet…_

There is one more task I need to fulfill.

_For Prim_.

I watch Gale turn back again and start down the corridor, feeling my own life slipping away along with him.

_Prim wouldn't want you to die._

But I didn't want _her_ to die, yet she is dead, dead, dead… so dead I almost scream it aloud again.

The echoes of Gale's reluctant footsteps silently ring in the corridor.

I know for certain I can't bring myself to live _without_ him.

Could I still live with him, after what happened? Could we touch each other again, when time diminishes the pain and covers the raw wounds with new tissue of acceptance, strong enough to build upon?

_Could that ever happen?_

The echoes fade into nothingness.

_No time will heal your wounds. You have to shoot straight after all._

 


	11. to the hanging tree

The odds have not chosen me to die. They have chosen her to die and she did. However hard I tried to prevent it, to feed her, to replace her, to protect her, in the end I changed nothing.

I survived and Prim didn't.

Then I tried to avenge her, and hoped to find peace for my trouble.

But instead of the nightlock capsule, I bit into Peeta's hand as he was striving to protect me even against myself, and then they seized me and Gale wasn't there to shoot me.

Where did he go?

Together, we could beat any odds.

They didn't execute me, and now they keep foiling my attempts to kill myself.

Is this my punishment? Eternal imprisonment and torture in the confines of my own mind, where Prim burns forever, and I feel every ounce of her pain?

Unable to endure it anymore, I scream at them to kill me, but my screams bounce back from the sterile walls. Gradually, they grow in clarity and their inarticulate melody slowly melts into words of The Hanging Tree, and I sing the song in an endless loop, suggesting what to do with me to everyone who might be listening.

My pleas go unheard again.

Finally, Haymitch arrives, telling me I've been judged for treason, but cleared of all charges.

I am supposed to return home.

How fitting.

Home is where the heart is; my heart is in ashes and so is District Twelve.

*

Where is Gale?

*

The flames are twisting and curling, assuming the vague shape of Prim's face only to melt back into amorphous blaze when I try to focus on her features. Haunting me, reminding me, but never, never accusing...

Through the fiery hallucination, I idly watch Greasy Sae nearing my armchair where I've spent greater part of the last few weeks – or was it months?–, lacking the will to live and the strength to die, stubbornly refusing anyone and anything.

Sae is bringing me breakfast. Bread and goat cheese. A memory, as if from another life, springs to my mind, cutting sharply through the haze of choking smoke that obscures my consciousness most of the time.

Cheese like Prim used to make... like her gift before... before everything started, or ended or both...

Before her first and least reaping...

... back then, Gale told me to flee with him...

"Where did Gale go?"

Sae widens her eyes in pleased surprise.

"Kept busy. Trial and cleaning up the Nut. Talked about it on TV a few times. Looked like death warmed over, my boy. It's been some time since I last saw him, though."

"Ah."

*

Where did Gale go? Is he still waiting for me?

Recalling the last glimpse of his face with startling clarity, I believe it. He is waiting until I am strong enough to join him.

If he isn't, I have no certainty left.

*

Somewhere far away, the world turns and the days flow, only I remain still, breathing, waiting, gathering strength to bear the weight of my loss enough to stand and seek liberation.

Slowly, I stretch my stiffened limbs and long-unused vocal cords and resume the song of a captive, disgraced, burned Mockingjay, its clear notes laced with increasing urgency and impatience, echoing in my room and in my head until fatigue overtakes me again.

The door opens, startling me from another daydream, and letting in a visitor I thought I'd driven away long ago.

"You cousin was asking about you," says Haymitch.

Gale.

He is here!

His prolonged absence feels like a phantom pain that remains after an amputated limb, a source of constant discomfort I can't grow accustomed to. Nothing could break our connection, not even the death of Prim. I need him as much as I need her. I can't live without him. I can't die without him. I both wish to see him again and dread the moment.

I hadn't looked into a mirror for the months I spent here, hiding from everything including myself, numb and buried under the weight of my own misery.

What would I see if I dared to look into Gale's eyes again?

"Are you even listening, sweetheart?"

Slowly, I nod.

"Haymitch, is he waiting for me?"

"What?"

Leaning forward, I grab his shirt.

"Is he waiting for me?"

"Who?"

"Gale!"

"He told me so." Haymitch studies my face with a disapproving frown he usually reserves for empty bottles.

"Good. I am coming. I am coming…" I tighten my grip and pull him closer, vying for his full attention. "Tell him. He must know. He must wait."

Then I release him and lean back, exhausted, closing my eyes. Haymitch hovers over me for a few more moments, probably wondering what the hell to do with me, but then he grumbles something under his breath and leaves.

Hopefully, he will deliver my message. Gale must wait for me.

Prim didn't.

*

The next day, I clean up to the best of my ability and drag myself out. I've kept Gale waiting long enough already.

Sunshine. Fresh air.

Ouch.

Soft wind blows, but I'm not disintegrating.

Maybe I can make it far enough…

A few hundred yards later, I give up and sink down onto the curb, staring towards Peeta's house.

His yard is golden with blooming dandelions, but mine remains a bare wasteland. Even flowers seem to shun me. I'm beyond hope.

Soon, two shadows fall across the pavement. Peeta and Delly, approaching me hand in hand.

When I raise my dead eyes to greet them, Peeta releases Delly's hand and leans down, something akin to guilt flashing over his features.

What does he feel guilty about? Delly? He should know better.

"Peeta, I couldn't be happier for you."

Muttered towards their feet, the words don't sound very convincing.

"Live on. That's what I wanted for you all the time," I add in answer to their skeptical silence.

Dismissing most of my words, Peeta crouches down, trying to meet my eyes.

"You could be happier, Katniss. You deserve to. I tried to save you all the time, just like you tried to save me. I'm not giving up now."

If there's one thing he should feel guilty about, it's preventing me from biting into the nightlock capsule.

But he obviously doesn't, and I have no strength to tell him that.

"You can't give up either, after everything you've been through, " he continues.

"I'm not giving up." I've already lost.

A glimmer of hope shines in Peeta's eyes.

I shiver. "I need to get back inside."

They help me up and home, Peeta carrying most of my weight, Delly dutifully providing balance from the other side, and lead me all the way back to my armchair.

"Katniss, if we could help you in any way, please tell us and …" begins Delly, but I cut her off.

"No, thank you."

There's only one more thing I need.

Gale will help me one last time, and then we'd both be free.

Peeta seems to read my mind, because he leans close to my ear and whispers:

"Gale is here."

He is waiting.

"Haymitch told me," I whisper back. "Gale should know I'm coming…"

Peeta smiles a little.

If he only knew where…

*

After a few more failed attempts I manage to walk further and further, until I make it beyond the fence and into the woods.

I can think of only one place where I could always find Gale. He used to wait for me there every day for four years. He should be waiting there now.

By the time I reach our ledge, my body aches, the fresh, clean air is still making my head spin, and I all but collapse onto the hard and empty rock. Empty.

Am I too late?

I bury face in my hands and rub my closed eyes, desperately wishing Gale to appear before me when I open them.

"Catnip."

A whisper, as quiet and uncertain as the one I'd introduced myself with so long ago. I peek between my fingers, afraid of seeing thin air that had spoken with a voice out of memory.

But no.

He is here. Waiting for me.

My eyes meet the most familiar silhouette, distinct against the background of lush greenery. Gale. Wearing his old hunting clothes and with unruly hair, no longer military short, falling into his face. He could be the boy I used to meet here every day…

…before she burned.

Only when he steps closer I notice a few premature lines wrought by guilt and remorse marring his handsome face. The pain remains, dulled but undiminished, in his ashen eyes. In their depths, I see my sister burn, because he sees her too, because we both believe ourselves to be beyond absolution.

Silently, I pat the rock beside me, and he sits down, as close as ever before. My hand rests on his knee, palm upward, fingers half curled, uncertain, yet inviting.

He covers my hand with his own and laces our fingers.

He understands and I understand.

We've grasped hands now and in a while, we can both be free, free of the guilt and pain, perhaps free to meet Prim again…

So many of our journeys began here, why not this one?

"Would you tie one last snare for me?" I whisper.

"You know she wouldn't want that."

"She would forgive me."

"Would she forgive me?"

"Let's find out. Are you coming?"

Gale lifts our joined hands and presses my fingers to his lips. Then he helps me up, and we head toward the path no one should tread. Together.

We are coming…

Hand in hand, we are approaching the Tree and the perpendicular branch casts ominous shadow upon our faces.

We've crossed seas of blood and fire to clasp each other again.

Only to come here?

Gale tightens his grip; I can feel the blood pulsing in his fingertips.

"Should I even tell you how many times I have dreamed about leading you somewhere else?" he whispers, perhaps more to himself than to me.

Sighing, I shut my eyes. No need to ask what he means.

I imagined it only once, but the scene appears in my mind, clear and sharp and real, and my steps falter to a halt. Gale stops along with me and takes hold of both my hands.

Our hands are warm.

I don't want them to turn cold.

Something in me still wants to hold on to life. 

Slowly, Gale slips his hands from mine to caress my face and my skin smolders at his touch, no longer with scorching flames of death and war, but with the warm tingle of almost-forgotten comfort.

I hear his heartbeat in the silence, and press myself against him so that I can feel it, so that our hearts can beat as one.

I don't want them to stop.

His fingertips are replaced by his lips, skimming my hairline, brushing over my forehead, my nose, my eyes, my cheeks, kissing away the tears squeezing from under my lashes. I capture his mouth to taste them.

"I love you, Catnip," Gale breathes as he breaks the kiss, a strangled whisper, brimming with love, hope and despair; and then he embraces me so tightly as if he wanted to hold onto my soul and snare it in this world.

I'm not going anywhere.

Lifting my head from his chest, I notice a flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye that hadn't been there before.

Yellow?

Rooted firmly between us and the Hanging Tree, a lone evening primrose opens its flowers to brighten the gloom.

Gale has followed my gaze, and when our eyes meet again, I see light. In the ashes of the wild, destructive fire, a tiny spark has sprung back to life, like a candle, warm and inviting, guiding me home.

My tears are flowing freely now, dousing the flames of Prim's funeral pyre that have burned under my lids for so long.

"Stay here with me," I choke out.

"I will, Catnip. As long as you need me," Gale whispers and pulls me close, letting my tears soak into his shirt. He rests his cheek on top of my head and moment later; I feel a single drop of moisture slide into my hair.

We have to find a way to survive.

For Prim.

So that she can live on in our hearts.


	12. a spark reborn

Survive.

Easier said than done.

Could we do it together? Bear the crushing weight of our war crimes like we used to bear the burden of defying every rule to provide for our families?

Right now, I feel barely strong enough to stand, and I cling to Gale to keep from falling over. As he scoops me into his arms, I find no motivation to protest and let him carry me home. His strides are long and firm again. Bodies heal quickly.

Just before he exits the clearing, I tilt my head over his shoulder for one last look at the Tree, and the primrose. Before the steady rhythm of Gale's steps lulls me to sleep, a single thought echoes in my tired mind.

_We'll find a way to survive, Prim._

_*_

"Katniss!"

Prim's lips form my name in a silent scream that melts into flames.

Waking up with a start, I find myself on the very edge of my bed, facing the empty room, disoriented and shaking.

She didn't survive, she didn't…

*

As soon as I open my eyes, shadows come alive in darkest corners, flickering like flames, coalescing into solid walls to trap me, twisting to shape familiar faces…

No!

Blinking frantically, I try to look past them.

My house. My dark, dusty, cobwebbed prison. No, I can't be back here. Last time I remember, I was in Gale's arms...

Or has it been only a dream, a brief respite from the nightmares?

Alarmed, I turn around, almost falling off the bed in the process, only to breathe a sigh of relief.

Gale is beside me, fast asleep, arms still outstretched in my direction. I'd only rolled away in my sleep. He is here with me. I scoot closer, tearing my gaze from imaginary horrors to focus on him, hoping that even if his presence wouldn't chase the demons away, we can fight them together.

He is here now… with me … alive… we are both alive… like Prim would want us to be…

Pale moonlight streaming in through open curtains highlights the contours of Gale's face, now sharper and more rugged than ever, creates black pools under his lashes and in the hollows of his cheeks, glistens on the scars that only add to his appeal. There's a new one along his jaw, a shallow gash, perhaps from careless shaving with a knife.

_… together, we escaped from the guilt that had driven us all the way to the Hanging Tree…_

With sleep smoothing his troubles away, seemingly returning his youth and burned innocence, Gale looks peaceful and beautiful…

_… only to find them lurking here, in this house, in the trap and prison Snow had designed for me._

… so beautiful I wish I could just look at him forever, but the shadows are pressing in and bursting into flames, soundlessly screaming agony of death; and I need him awake to help me.

"Gale!" I whisper urgently, shaking him, holding onto his shoulders for life and sanity.

He wakes only after several attempts, and I feel a stab of guilt for disturbing him. He doesn't look like he'd been sleeping well either.

"Whatsit?" he mutters, slowly sitting up to face me, his voice still heavy with sleep.

"I can't live here anymore!" I blurt, almost hysterical, gripping his shirt as the flaming shadows engulf me, and bombs explode behind my lids when I close my eyes to block them out.

"Catnip…" his voice is still groggy, but with a sharp tinge of despair. He reaches out and gently takes my face into his hands, comforting me, caressing me, holding me here and now.

"I mean in this house," I add, a bit calmer now that his touch slowly drives the horrors away, to hover at the very edge of my vision, furtive, but still present. "Reminds me of… of… everything..." my voice falters. "I've been trapped here for too long."

I bury my head in Gale's shirt and try to hide there, and it seems to work.

"I'm sorry, Catnip," he whispers and lies back down, pulling me along with him. "I didn't know where else to take you."

Neither did I…

"Where have you been staying?" I ask suddenly.

I feel him shrug. "Woods."

"What about your family?" I didn't even check on them, or ask Sae and Haymitch about them. What kind of person am I?

"They stayed in Two. I left them my apartment there. Mother got a job there; the kids can go to school…" The quiet words rumble in his chest, distracting and soothing me, despite the audible sorrow and longing permeating his voice.

Asking him if he misses them seems redundant, but I mutter the words anyway.

Gale only heaves a sigh in response.

"You left them to come to me…"

"That's what I promised you, Catnip. I couldn't fail you. Not this time," he mutters, lips brushing my hair.

"I'm glad you waited. I needed you there. I'll need you with me. Every day."

Lifting my head, I see the smile illuminating his face, brighter and more beautiful than the moonlight. When I close my eyes and kiss him, I still see it.

And nothing else.

*

"Do you still think we can make it?" I ask in the morning, still wrapped in Gale's arms. No more nightmares found me there.

"What, Catnip?" he mutters, smoothing my messy hair from my face.

"Leave the District. Live in the woods."

"I almost stopped," he whispers and shadow passes over his face like a cloud, but then he smiles again, and the darkness is gone. "Now, I'd believe anything."

Me too. We can stay there as long as we need to recover.

*

Hand in hand, we are approaching the cabin near the lake. We'd decided to furnish it a little and make it into our base of operations.

"Have you been here since you returned to the district?"

"No. I had no right to. This place belongs to the living," Gale responds, a note of bitterness in his voice.

"It belongs to us now," I say softly, stopping to wrap my arms around him. "If you want to stay…"

"Where else would I want to be?" he whispers into my hair, pulling me even closer.

"What about your family?" I mutter into his chest, repeating myself.

"I'm sure they'd want to return to Twelve… later. They are better off without me for now. Rory still thinks I can never be far enough," Gale adds bitterly.

Tightening my embrace, I try to reassure him. "He needs time. We all do."

"I can only hope you are right."

*

We do find peace in our sanctuary, surrounded by primroses we planted there to remind us that Prim would wish to be our guardian angel, not a ghost to haunt us.

After a few trips back to the house and some clever feats of carpentry on Gale's part, the cabin could almost pass for a home. It's still summer, and we don't need much. The sense of freedom I hardly ever let myself dream of makes me feel more and more alive with every passing day. In this place, untainted by the influence of the Capitol, no flickering illusions burn me alive. And when nightmares torment me at night, I have Gale to comfort me and drive them away.

Together, we are strong enough.

We can make it.

Live.

*

A thin layer of clouds, soft, gray, and radiant, just obscures the setting sun. The air is warm, and the water of the lake flows cool and pleasant over our bodies, washing away the dust and sweat of a long hunting trip.

When we swim back to the shore, Gale slings his arm under my knees and I hold onto him tightly as he fishes me out of the water, and tighter after he lays us down on the soft grassy shore. In his arms, it feels almost too easy to live again, to savor every second, every breath, every kiss, every touch, every sigh...

"Catnip..."

Gale groans my name through gritted teeth, his back arching, fingers digging into my thighs. Heat surges through my body in a crashing wave, and I let my hands slide up his chest and into his hair as I sink on top of him, embracing him, clinging to him as tenaciously as to life itself.

As a lone sunray breaks through the clouds to bathe our entwined bodies in pure golden light, I pull my lips away from Gale's kisses, barely far enough to speak, and whisper the only three words that could make this moment more perfect:

"I love you."


	13. the epilogue

Breathing deeply and holding onto Gale's hand for reassurance, I prepare to take another plunge.

"I do," says Gale.

His voice is gentle, but firm and resolute, just like his grip on my hand, claiming me for the entire whole world to see, to hear.

A few moments later, I return the favor.

"I do."

The answer flows from my lips without a catch, without hesitation, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Gale is mine and I am his. Now it's official.

Signing my new name next to Gale's in bold and steady letters, I believe I couldn't be happier.

Then we kiss as if we were already alone, and I reluctantly pull away only when the whistling gets loud enough to break through the rush of blood in my ears.

* * *

Mother stands a little to the side, leaning on Hazelle, both smiling widely but blinking back tears. Haymitch has amazed and honored me by staying sober for long enough to walk me down the aisle, but disappeared from my sight immediately afterward, presumably on a quest for something to drink.

Not surprisingly, then, Peeta is the first person to congratulate me. Instead of shaking my hand, he lifts me up by the waist and twirls me through the air, grinning.

"I couldn't be happier for you, Katniss," he gasps as he sets me down. I believe him, just like he believed me years ago, when I told him the same thing after he married Delly. No more lies remain between us, and it feels almost too good to be real. But we both know it is.

I shake my head a little, matching his grin. "You are incredible… thank you."

Then Delly kisses me on both cheeks, chirping excited congratulations, and I notice her elaborate golden earrings, shaped like tiny dandelions.

Younger Hawthornes officially welcome me to the family, with coughs sounding suspiciously like "long overdue". Posy clings to me like a long-lost little sister, even though she's already taller than me.

My head swirls with joy as wishes and congratulations shower me like confetti. Haymitch, now drunk up to standard, clasps me almost as if he changed his mind about giving me away; Johanna snidely offers some very creative wedding-night advice; Annie, slightly hassled by the loud buzz of excited voices, yet radiant, squeezes me in her arms; Finnick, looking his worst, but smiling his best, whispers: "Congrats on making it to the right shore."

Now I am blinking back tears. "You too."

We all passed through the darkest depths, but now, embracing every survivor, I see that there is still light left for us.

Light that was worth fighting for.

* * *

Much later, retreating from the whirlwind of the celebration, Gale and I head back to the house we'd built in the former Seam, right next to where Hazelle came to live with Gale's siblings before they scattered away with their own partners. Now we stay there when duties call, but the cabin by the lake remains our true home, the place where we belong. Quickly, we change into hunting clothes – new for the occasion – and set out into the woods before the dusk deepens into night. When we reach the cabin, Gale scoops me into his arms with a lightning-quick motion and carries me over the threshold.

"Hey…" I gasp as he lowers my toes to the ground, not quite releasing his hold on me. "What was that for?"

Gale shrugs with a disarming smile. "It's a part of the tradition I kinda like."

Pressing myself closer, I breathe against his neck, "I know."

* * *

While Gale starts the fire, I run back out to fill a simple vase with lake water to put my wedding bouquet in. A magnificent and vaguely familiar primrose, a gift from Rory, dominates the beautiful creation.

Soon the fire is roaring, and I slowly summon courage to face it. Until now, I've always let Gale tend to the hearth while I averted my gaze, fearing visions that might emerge from the flickering heat. Only now I find strength to look into the open flame, this time burning for us, bright and reliable.

The blaze crackles and swirls; and my mind stubbornly insists on seeking familiar shapes, until I find the image of Prim's face. She is smiling in delight. Turning my head back to Gale, I see her joy reflected in his eyes.

"So, what are we toasting, Catnip?" Gale asks softly.

"Something I got this morning."

Gale raises his eyebrows. "A Mellark wedding special?"

"Sure, they offered. Delly wouldn't take no for an answer, so I accepted it, but only for the reception. I got something more fitting for the toasting earlier."

_We'd gone for an stroll in the woods shortly after dawn, not really intent on hunting, but when an opportunity presented itself, I dared Gale take a shot…_

Reaching into my game bag, I pull a parcel out with a flourish and lay it on the mantelpiece. "Well, I thought that bread wouldn't be the best option for us."

Recognition begins to dawn on his face.

… _and he did. Straight through the eye. For the first time ever._

"So, let's toast the squirrel."

Gale shakes his head a little, and then starts laughing.

"That's my Catnip," he says victoriously, pinning me down on the warm rug in front of the fireplace.

"Catnip Hawthorne…" I whisper, entwining my fingers in his hair.

Saying the name aloud makes it feel real.

A new name, nobody has ever stolen it, nobody ever would.

_Is that me?_

Here, in his arms, I believe it.

"…I think I can live with that."

"Me too," he breathes against my lips.


End file.
